


Sweet Peppermint Trigger

by TheNightWatcher



Category: End Roll (Video Game), Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Canon-Typical Violence, End Roll spoilers, Headcanon, If Russell ever thought Informant was bad Alastor is ten times worse, Imaginary Friends, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Murder, Murderers, Past Child Abuse, Russell Learns Value, Russell understands power differences, Sisterly Affection, Team as Family, True End 1 spoilers for End Roll, Unintentional Redemption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-08 11:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21474913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightWatcher/pseuds/TheNightWatcher
Summary: Unfortunately, for Russell's proclaimed success, the end credits never stop rolling.As one might say, regretfully, the show must go on.
Relationships: Charlie Magne/Vaggie, Russell & Nameless Town Residents (Past), Russell & The Hazbin Residents
Comments: 30
Kudos: 45





	1. New Pages Of A Diary

_["E-Even if I did this for you, Russell, it wouldn't clear up your crime! So come on, let's just...Forget this. Let's stay together longer...We'll all be together,"]_

Something is wrong.

Russell was destined to disappear, vanquished along with his last dose of medicine. His last colors were red, white and a darkening gray to black. Everything fell according to plan, and the blond had succeeded in his role. No one would miss him, and the others who had already vanished into nothing. He shouldn't be able to feel anything, and yet the dull throb of his throat woke him with a buzzy sting. There was also the gravity tugging him into oblivion and the wind whipping his eyes shut, but none of it compared to the harsh landing of hitting the unforgiving ground.

...The air tastes weird. Worse than his old home, the stench of sex and booze did not compare to the new scent tainting his nostrils.

Russell sits up, holding his mouth and nose as his stomach churned. His face and waist ached a little from the harsh fall. He took a quick scout of the area without moving too much.

There's only bone and rot. The entire area is deserted aside from the garage and piles of mammal bones. Was this place a graveyard? There was a gate of stained material surrounding the parameter. The near dustbowl of desolate sand created an eerie atmosphere it if weren't for the odd solid dirt ground of dark mahogany violet. Faint sounds of fizzling lights and hysterical laughter drummed over his ears. There were people nearby, then.

Russell shifts, standing up and stumbling with the added weights on his head. Hands fly to the new attachments, and the blond rushes to find a reflective surface. A puddle of clear liquid and Russell wonders if its water before he squints at his new appearance. ...He's still wearing his old clothes. His eyes had fallen into a deep shade of slitted purple, skin a shade of dark grey. While his hair was still the same sunbathed yellow, Russell did not feel like himself. Especially not with the added ram-horns curved toward his ears.

Russell barely resists the urge to shudder. He looks up, observing the dark sky. ...Is that the moon? No, the cluster of white looked like something else. There were clouds around it. There's no way he could reach such a place without wings but he makes a mental note about finding more information about this new area. Russell needed guidance more than ever. Where was he?

A car screech gathers his attention. Russell half-climbs the fence, peering over the dirty gate despite his very short structure and struggling arms.

He catches sight of a white-figure turning the corner. Russell does not dare follow, flabbergasted with how the other had multiple arms and lacked a human face. He harshly bites his tongue, and after tasting blood, concludes this wasn't a dream. Not _his_ dream anyway, as his Happy Dream had long ended. Whatever this is...Wherever this was, this was a new world entirely.

And that? That was dangerous. Russell was no stranger to the supernatural, the medicine he had taken back when he was alive held far more side-effects than what his 'caretakers' cared to put down. Russell would rather not interact with anyone here and get to a safer place. Staying in one place may create his own grave, his adventure-self knew this fact well.

He swiftly climbed over the fence and scurried off into the emptier parts of the streets. Russell did not once stop, not even when a snake made a noise of surprise and called out to him, or when a vixen with scarlet eyes observed him with interest. There were also the stares of the _Revolting,_ disgusting creatures with desires Russell, unfortunately, knew of and purposely avoided eye-contact with.

"Hey, hey...Is that…?" One of the malformed creatures spoke. They had many eyes, like an unblinking Nightmare.

"D'aww, it's a little kiddie!" A feminine voice squealed.

"Won't last long here." Another spoke, dull and uninterested. "They never do."

Russell ignored all of them and fled into the darkness between the buildings. Right before the world became a little quieter, the voices from a television set surfaced to his mind, adrenaline catching words from a nearby television shop.

"_And stay tuned for more on our 666 News! The very princess of Hell would like to introduce a new project for problematic demons…"_

_Where_ is this?

There's a lot of red. Disgusting, vile, red all over the place. It smells, his nose burns, and eyelids wanted to shut away eyes forever. This was worse than seeing the hospital room every day. A white room, with a white bed. There was far, far, too much red.

Russell heaves, he heaves and shakes his head.

He has to keep it together. He has to.

...But for who?

Russell once again catches his reflection in the metallic shine of a trashbin's metal. Despite the changes, he sees the same person from all those days before. Same face, same haircut, same expression. Russell Seager, a fourteen-year-old who made a name for himself in the worst of ways. Russell Seager...

An emotionless boy. A normal boy. A kind boy.

_Murderer._

Russell lays his head on the grimy wall. He thinks, and thinks, and realizes _oh,_ with a tiny moment of silence and sharp memory of the signs he ran by, _This is Hell._

He shouldn't be surprised.

Unfortunately, he still is.

* * *

Russell has been wandering for a while now. Demons, as Hell's residents seem full of them, (including himself) have been bothering him left from right. Sometimes, on a good hour, he goes dutifully ignored. Unfortunately, there were more unsavory characters rather than the ones who dismiss him. He had personally dealt with these beings with the makeshift piece of metal he had broken off from an outside chair of wood.

While the presence of his weapon did not deter most demons, his skills as a wielder _had._ Russell could only thank his intense dream training for saving his 'life' on more than one occasion.

...He's hungry. Shoplifting isn't too far of a stretch from the crimes he used to do but Russell would rather not push his luck with the powerful demons here. After all, some knew _magic_ and those types were the worst to deal with. Did Russell himself have magic? He had no idea and held zilch knowledge about unlocking such powers if so. His only qualities were physical strength and skill, nothing else. Is this going to be his life for the rest of his existence?

Fighting off the unsavory?

Russell stares at his grey hands, unsure of himself and what to do. He's hungry, tired, and without a place to stay. Sleeping on a park bench was simply not an option with the number of pedophiles in this town. He leans against a wall, allowing a wave of exhaustion to settle for only a moment. His heightened senses were bothersome, irked against the smoke and other smells this polluted city held.

Hell was horrible.

...But Russell's life had been horrible too. What should he do differently?

He could...Try to change. Right? That's what the others would've wanted. His friends. A haze fell over his mind, and Russell easily surrendered to the familiar buzz of acceptance. Problematic demons, right? Russell knew. He knew because he was one of those beings. Perhaps not quite a demon, but close. He's bad, the blond knows he is. When he passed the Happy Dream examination and was determined free...Russell fought against it in the most permanent way possible.

He disobeyed the last words of his faded friends. Russell is selfish, and he knows. He _knows_, he hasn't changed despite what others saw. The blond should've stayed with his dream a little longer. Go on playdates with Gardenia, or read the bible with Dogma and clean the church floors with his sister, Cody. Anything to prolong the ounce of happiness given to him at the time. Russell had not changed whatsoever, no matter what Informant said, or the adults in white thought.

Russell Seager, a boy of the damned, had not changed at all.

He makes his way to the fancy station with all the cameras and news reporters. The address was thankfully in the newspapers. It's fairly easy to get inside, Russell had stealth and a very small structure with his four foot nine height. The very few small demons who _did_ see him, and tried to intercept him with violence, gained concussions or a forceful nap. They barely stood a chance against the veteran assumed to be pitiful and weak.

* * *

Russell enters the room, not a single soul acknowledging his existence. This was a good reminder about the fact most couldn't detect the quiet blond until it was far too late. Cruel laughter blared against his ears. He would flinch if he weren't used to the horrible sounds assaulting his hearing without warning. Instead, he remained impassive and calm. Russell observed the set, several demons of multiple colors, shapes and sizes poking fun at the kind-looking lady at the News desk. Next to her, was a stereotypical cruel woman who lacked a nose and a man with a gas mask.

Russell continues to stare, attention on the kinder blonde who looked genuinely upset. He wonders about her name, and if she knew a Gardenia. The woman with the tuxedo matched his old friend's expression for when things are going wrong, and she isn't sure what to do. He had known Gardenia for the majority of his Happy Dream. Reading expressions may be difficult for him but this is at least somewhat familiar.

The laughter finally dies down, and the near-shout of glee immediately rubs Russell the wrong way. The meaner woman, the other blond. _Her_.

She sounds just like his aunt. Her tone, posture, even her appearance of a perfect person only to match the ugliness within.

"What makes you think..." The woman with too much make-up rambles between mirth, and Russell wordlessly stalks forward. He isn't listening well, the static in his ears blocking out most of her venomous words. "...Would give two shits about becoming a better person?!" She howls in laughter, and her disgusting inner colors are shown for all to see. Except, no one cares. This is Hell, and everyone is horrible, it seems.

Russell gently places a hand on the table, setting off a chain reaction of a pin drop silence. He stares at this woman, (not his aunt), eyes unblinking.

He's on television. They're _all _on television. An uninvited guest had shown up to crash the party, _him._

Russell isn't scared. He's faced his mother all by himself, watched her twist into a monster and slay the strand of poison. To destroy the thread he desperately wanted, _hurt_ himself for. Weakness is not tolerated in the Happy Dream, and never will it ever be needed in reality when he's by himself. He wonders if the others would be proud of him...If only just for that.

"I would." Russell's quiet voice pierces the silence like a strike of blue lightning. His long nails dig into the surface of the desk. The following tense air did not faze him. "I want to become a better person." His voice had been described to him as a whisper, a single, powerful whisper. Russell does not break eye contact with the poisonous woman before shifting his fingers in the direction of the kinder blond who watches him with amazement.

...It's odd because no one (in reality) has ever looked at him in such a way. Well no, except for one person but the righteous woman was long gone as his former friends.

"Can I sign up?" Russell asks the happier demon, and before she could answer with starry eyes and a trembling lip, the room explodes in protest and disgust. They sneer at him, laugh, joke about the youth of today. Some claim he must be an idiot Hell-Born, whatever that meant. They kept spitting disgusting words and the loud noise was louder than screeching monkeys. Russell has the desire to bash someone's head in. He shouldn't, but he does.

"Hey! _Is too_ the project will work! We already got a patron, and he's doing great! Clean for _two weeks, _so it's possible for this kiddo too!" Energy renewed, the previously sulking tux-wearing woman sat up straight. She attempts to diffuse the situation, to little avail.

A lady in grey skin and one eye swiftly come to Russell's rescue by tugging his arm and he snaps out of the moment of bloodlust. Twitching fingers fall still and Russell looks into the pink eye of this new person. The new lady smiles gently at him, almost as if she's proud and grateful despite just meeting Russell at this very moment. Her eye darts to the kinder blond for a split second before back to him.

Russell decides not to think any further about it.

He doesn't pay much more attention to the live television broadcast until he catches sight of the crueler-blond beginning to grow spider-like appendages with a hit-list on the dial.

Russell doesn't hesitate. He jumps ship from the grey lady and swings his makeshift weapon. He and the troublesome adult begins to wrestle, and she's gaining the advantage with the many limbs and longer arms. Russell bites his lip when one of those claw-like legs nearly takes out one of his eyes. Fights were harder when they were One on One with a major size difference.

"Charlie!"

If the kinder blond lady from before joins the brawl to help him, Russell can't say he was grateful for her lateness.

Still, they're beating the other lady _together_, and Russell counts it as a win.


	2. Unwanted Red Crayon

There's a new tension in the air, but it wasn't aimed at Russell, and so the former dreamer took the time to look out the window and occasionally lock eyes with a smiling 'Charlie.' Yes, that was the official name of the kinder blond back at the News station. Now they were driving to...A hotel, of sorts. After they had (the grey lady and Charlie) picked up this furry creature with several arms. Russell had likely seen him before as there was a tingle of familiarity at the back of his mind. One telling of a briefly spotted stranger on an odd day.

Covered in fur, having an odd haircut, and mismatched eyes and wearing hues of pink. This demon looked a lot less dangerous than the others. Almost like a stuffed animal if it weren't for his tall size.

Russell knows better than to judge a book by its cover. He slew vampire bunnies with cuter faces. In the same world, his carbon copy slammed him to the ground with a perfect smile. Russell may be young, but he was also a kid who had lived on the evils of the streets. To make such a mistake would be costly. He averts eyes with Charlie again, choosing to stare out the window.

"Uuuh, who's the uh, who's the kid?" The pink and white demon spoke a bit terse, without looking in their direction. Russell didn't have to glance up to know Charlie gave him another gentle smile. She's been doing that a lot and the gray-skinned lady sitting on his other side looked faintly amused by this.

They're both strange, Russell has long been decided.

"We don't know yet. But! He said he wishes to change himself!" Charlie took his hands, and Russell managed enough self-control not to rip his hands away. "And am I _glad _to meet a demon who wants to become better! See, Vaggie? There's always someone out there!" Eyes bright and welcoming, the kind blond only beamed brighter. "I'm Charlie, that's Vaggie, and the pink spider over there is Angel Dust. It's," Her lip is trembling again. "It's nice to meet you!" She offers a renewed handshake.

He stares at the hand for two seconds before gathering enough courage to shake it. Russell is rewarded with a smile and shining eyes of happiness. Charlie's very actions cloud his brain into feeling very, very small. It must show in his body language because he's trying to look as tiny as possible under her sunny-side sun. The feeling is equivalent to an ant staring up at a waiting shoe of doom.

Vaggie seems faintly amused by Russell's bafflement but turns back to Angel Dust with a less-than-controlled haze of fury. The two begin to argue and Russell swiftly turns them out in favor of Charlie asking him a question under their bickering. She looked a little exhausted but sheer content fueled her side of the conversation. A familiar event.

"What's your name?" She asks, almost as radiant as his former friend lost to time and rot.

Russell shifts, a bit daunted by her entire personality. She's painfully like Gardenia, the girl was the first resident he met who claimed to friend him on the spot. To meet another with the same energy...His lips move, a quiet voice under the increasingly loud argument nearby. Russell reminisces about his memories, the days he sat at a friend's table, the smell of cooking food pleasing to his mood.

"Russell? Well, it's nice to meet 'cha!" She once again swiftly shakes his hand.

He watches the handshake happen before finally letting go. Charlie doesn't look bothered, gaining another upcurve of the lips and following Russell's gaze toward the window.

"You're gonna love it at Happy Hotel, Russell. I just know it!" She promises, and Russell idly nods along. "Listen, I'm really...Glad you decided to come. You'll be up in the clouds before you know it, so let's do our best together, okay? Riiight Vaggie?" Charlie successfully ceases the bickering with her shining eyes.

The grey-skinned lady named Vaggie releases a heavy breath and crosses her arms. "Charlie," She begins patiently, and to the kinder blond's credit, Charlie didn't falter in smile. "What if no one else comes? Russell may be a step but," She purposely avoids his somewhat curious gaze. That's okay, Russell wasn't trying to stare at her. "One isn't enough, Hun." A realist, the dreamer notes. The lady with one eye keeps her partner grounded.

Charlie doesn't waver to the reality check. "Well, Vaggie, I think it'll be okay! We'll just cross that bridge when we get to it." She shifts, putting her chin in hand and leaning on the limo window. "I think...Things are getting better, little by little." Her genuine glowing mood brought curved lips to both women.

Feeling a familiar prickle on his neck, Russell looked over at Angel Dust, who had been watching him intently for a while now. Within the fraction of a second, Russell recognizes the glint of discomfort and puzzlement. Upon catching the other in the act of staring, Angel Dust swiftly looked away and begin to whistle. He went as far as to groom his hair in the glass' reflective surface. A wave of calm fell over the vehicle, and Russell decided to let it go.

* * *

"You Hell-Born, Squirt?" The question came out of nowhere, right as Vaggie opens the door and enters the building known as Happy Hotel. Russell was quick to follow but the word once again makes him confused. Fortunately, Angel (Russell wonders if it's simply Angel or Angel Dust) shakes his head with a click of the tongue. "Nevermind. Ya sure about this? There's other places to play pranks, Kid." Mismatched eyes lock on the small blond, and for a moment, the two are in a staring contest. "Now to cause _real_ trouble? You came to the right crew." Angel grins, golden tooth shining.

Russell doesn't know what Angel's thinking but he's getting vibes similar to how a concerned delinquent takes a troubled child under their wing. Russell finally walks inside the hotel and takes a look at all the decorations set up as a welcoming party. He's never had one of those, not in reality.

Russell finally musters up energy and dimly nods.

Angel doesn't seem satisfied with such a silent answer. "You know, you're awfully quiet." He murmurs, in observance, and raids the fridge without a look toward either of the hotel owners. "How did ya even end up in a shithole like this?" A rhetorical question, a way to pass the time as Charlie begins dusting some of the banners and Vaggie takes a moment to rest after a stressful day. The male with multiple arms offered a popsicle, and Russell took the peace offering. "Just don't try to stab me with tha' weapon you got in there, and we should be good. Got it, Squirt?" He begins chewing on the cold treat.

Russell observes his ice cream before offering the piece back to Angel. His _own _mutual peace offering, because the other somehow _knew_ he was armed before Russell exposed the sharp object.

Instead of the snatched treat like Russell expected, Angel's eyes grew wide and delighted. ...Are spiders able to do that? He's unable to ponder further on this as the other takes the popsicle and begins to eat them both at the same time.

Angel must really like ice cream. Russell is neutral about most foods since he hasn't been exposed to many. He turns away and stalks over to Charlie, who notices him with little effort. She takes his newly acquired blink with an unneeded answer.

"Yeah, um, sorry. We don't have a lot of food right now," Charlie laughs sheepishly. "We'll have dinner later! ...Probably."

A shift of cushion tells of a differing opinion.

"Hopefully." Vaggie 'discreetly' mumbles from the red chair.

"Nah." Angel doubts from his side of the room, and no one argues against him.

There's a knock on the door.

Charlie looks up, puzzled but moves to go get the knob.

Russell could feel the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand. He grabs her leg with a hand before she _could_ open the door, and Charlie looks down at him with a sluggish blink. Her hand is already on the handle as she seems to carefully watch his impassive expression with the sweat falling down his forehead. Has she never heard of '_ask who it is before opening?'_ "Relax, Russell," Charline gently chides, ruffling his hair. An affectionate gesture for someone she's just met hours ago. Russell wonders what did he do to deserve this treatment. "If it's anyone bad, _I'll_ defend all of us." She tries to assure his spinning nerves.

"I'd love to see it, Babe. Sounds like a show." Angel snorts, and Vaggie throws a cushion at him.

As Charlie prepares to pull the knob, Russell notes he'd rather decidedly, _not_ be here. Unfortunately, his legs won't move in time, and Charlie opens the door _without asking who it is._

Do all adults do this? Casually open the door without knowing who's on the other side?

Russell has no idea who Charlie sees. Russell is very short, and he can only see dark wine pants and fancy shoes. He doesn't look up, for multiple reasons. _One, _whoever this is, they're very powerful. Russell can _feel_ the chaotic energy simply radiating off this person. _Two, several shadow puppets are staring_ him right in the eyes. They stare, and Russell stares into the void of glowing hues and mocking darkness.

All the boy sees, is death, the void, and emptiness.

Charlie shuts the door, and Russell flees.

"Russell?" Vaggie calls after him, but he's locking himself into a nearby vault without a moment's pause. Luckily, his small structure and size help him hide successfully. "Wha? What the hell? What's with him? _Charlie?_" Her voice becomes near inaudible as he shuts the metal and Russell covers his ears. He tunes everything out, unwilling, unwanting, and not having to deal with _whatever_ resided just a few feet away.

Under the static ringing in his covered ears and his thundering core, all is blissfully quiet.

Which is exactly why Russell's innards froze over when there was a curious knock from the outside.

"_Hello?"_

Russell doesn't reply. Not to the new static-layered voice who effortlessly cut through the layers of thick metal. Magic. This was one of the magical demons of this realm, the type Russell wanted to _avoid._ What kind of luck from his living life follows him into Hell? And how did this person find him despite his best efforts of hiding? Did Charlie sell him out? And what was with that horrible noise laced with the newcomer's tone?

"_You can't hide, my boy! Come and say hello!"_

Not a twitch of movement commenced.

"_Don't you worry Miss Magnes, I'll have him out in a jiffy!"_ The promise rings trouble in Russell's ears. Both him and this new person were obviously stubborn. And with growing pricks of dread, he realizes that neither of them would give in. _"Please, stand back and watch."_ The politeness grates nerves but Russell isn't able to focus on the newcomer much longer on coherent thought.

Instead, instincts scream to life as multiple colorful eyes of the previous shadows join him in the dark space. Russell is struck still, the many scleras peering into his soul through methods of simply existing. He can't move. He can't breathe. The shadow creatures only continue to stare in silence, and Russell's fingers recklessly twitch.

All at the same time, the many eyes blink.

Russell boots the door open with a burst of energy, strength, and adrenaline, throwing himself out of the closed-air torture and its many hallucinations. His nails scratch into the carpet and because of the amount of velocity, Russell takes the flat material with him. The destination is heading to a solid wall, and Russell dimly thinks about how _ridiculous _this was and how much it was going to hurt. A rod-shape blur is forced onto the sliding carpet, and instead of slamming into the wall, he falls flat on his arms.

Russell sluggishly gathers his mental bearings. He could faintly hear a laugh track and applause under his frazzled mind. Russell finally turns his head upwards, blinking hard.

He's greeted with a new smiling face and two familiar concerned ones. They're all ridiculously tall, way taller than normal people should be. However, this was Hell, and everything was strange and equally horrible. Like that constant noise. Who's doing that? His racing mind should stop with the envy of his own small size and inconsistent sound but Russell fails to recover in time. Charlie reaches to help him up but is swiftly overshadowed by the newcomer in scarlet. Vaggie hisses a protest but the smiling man of teeth and possible harm easily picks Russell up by the collar and sets him on his feet. Not a lick of pain was inflicted but Russell could feel his head hurt anyway.

"_Now now, that's much better!_" Another radio-like applause.

The stranger holds teeth sharper than Angel's, the large smile a cursed reminder of someone Russell had once denied when he was alive. The fancy attire was one of class and intimidation. A style to speak to the masses without saying a word. Claws so black it was hard to tell if the other was wearing gloves, the man's eyes of frightening ruby eyed him before shutting in an amused clutch of the light.

Russell had no idea what he was looking for and frankly doesn't care. Russell doesn't back away, an idiotic move if he dared try.

"Russell, are you okay?" Charlie finally asks, and Russell is tempted to shake his head. In a swift choice, he nods. "This is, uh," And _why_ did she give the lethal person a chance to introduce himself? Oh, right. This is coming from the woman who opened the door for a stranger. Who does that? Is she the type to accept free candy from them too? Isn't there a word for people like her?

"_Alastor, my boy! It's a pleasure to meet the daring actor who passionately stunned the picture show to silence!"_ Soft cheers erupted, and Russell finally notes the strange old technology sounds are definitely coming from this person. _"I think we're going to get along just fine! Your process is _bound _to be the most entertaining." _He chuckles. _"Yes indeedy, I can see it now." _Thankfully, the utterly tall man seemed distracted by his thoughts, still smiling and possibly daydreaming.

Russell pleadingly looks to Charlie, as much as his blank face could look worried. A silent question passes between them. Russell may not be telepathic but the kinder blond _knows_ what his eyes are asking. It's a plead, with a preference for silenced sound and less threatening people in the hotel.

She laughs sheepishly, averting her gaze. Vaggie looks just as tired as Russell is, clearly with little say in the matter.

Russell doesn't need to be told why 'Alastor' is here.

So be it. The One Who Smiles is an enemy not to be underestimated. Russell will simply have to stay out of the other's way.

He thinks of the many eyes, the shadow creatures and their alertness of his form. Russell resists a shiver.

...Easier said than done.


	3. New Crayon Color Pieces

"You okay, Squirt?" Angel had asked him when Russell finally retreated to the couch in a daze. Vaggie had returned with him, generous enough to guide him to sit. Both Charlie and the One Who Smiles chattered together a short distance away; their conversation had been forcefully blocked out due to Russell's own preservation of sanity. He tries not to shiver whenever the sound of crackling grits occasionally gets louder than normal, and Russell grips the couch fabric without restraint. "Ah geez, Vaggie, am I the only one see'in this?"

"No, you're not." Russell manages to hear, low and perhaps concerned. "Russell. Russell, can you hear me?" Vaggie (her voice is awfully quieter than normal. In reality, she was really loud. Her yelling can probably shatter glass. Like in the car. Russell could barely think back there. Too loud. He doesn't like yelling.) speaks again but the next words are difficult to hear. There's a volume increase in the horrible noise from nearby.

He likely nods in order to explain he's still there. Russell doesn't know why he did it, himself. He's_ there_ yet _not._ Does that make any sense? Just like his Happy Dream. That world didn't make sense either. It didn't exist, fabricated by his mind, memories, and medicine. Why did it affect him so? Russell did nothing but destroy. Why couldn't they see that? Why couldn't _she_ see that? Does anyone hear the sound of a bothersome television? He'll prove it to them. Russell will destroy that.

It _needs_ to be destroyed. It's annoying. The continuous sound with no end in sight. Someone needs to silence it. So he'll just...

"Russell!"

Violet eyes wearily blink, and the Russell notes Vaggie had covered his ears with her hands. Angel seems to be standing a short distance away, three arms on his waist and one pointing accusingly at the blurry shapes of Charlie and the One Who Smiles. He could _feel_ the mirth-filled smile from the tall person in red only a few yards away. The freezing icicles within his mind melted with alarm dripping at the edges.

"Kid, are you there?" Vaggie swiftly questions again, one eye narrowed. She was searching. Searching for _him._

He should let her know he came back. Russell finally nods, his insides cold dish-washed water.

Vaggie breathes sheer relief and concentrates her rage at the person responsible. "What the _hell_ is your problem!" She hisses, spear in hand. The blade is curved, a mere cut created to rip deep and tear one to shreds. The target is the One Who Smiles, the wine-red attire greatly contrasting with the shine of silver right by the man's throat.

"_Accidents, dear. I did not know he'd react poorly to my voice frequency. I have dubbed it down! Isn't that enough?"_ The One Who Smiles chuckles, shoulders shaking. _"Why! We were fortunate enough to notice his sensitivity before I _truly _had gotten serious. A mess of children is simply something I would not allow!" _Ruby eyes fall to squints.

_Lies_, Russell heard his mind fuel with a bitter snigger. He was a boy who had once known his own Lock, Truth, and Key. The ways of a manipulator, a swindler, and a liar had nearly always been exposed for him to see. Russell had known his own lies and his own deceit. To see someone else expertly hide their true intentions, experiments, and desires...Deja vu. He would've never figured it out if it weren't for his own experiences with talking with another version of himself, a separate, fabricated personality who would spit the truth without remorse.

To recognize a lie in this lethal realm, was crucial. Exposed to the candor of reality, this skill came second nature.

Russell didn't like the One Who Smiles for a good reason, and such was sheer instinct.

Vaggie peers into the man's form, seemingly looking for the lie Russell had clearly seen. She clicks her tongue, bothered but not at all less hostile. "You do that again, and we're gonna have issues. _Got it?"_ The spear vanishes, and she decides to stick closer to the threat, a smart move. Charlie swiftly looked between both parties, a bit fearful of the already strained relationship. She had not yet understood the disastrous consequences of bringing in an utter _monster_ like this.

Russell can safely conclude Charlie was just as in danger for being so close to an atrocious person. At least Vaggie was close enough to help if something happened.

"_But of course, My Dear."_ Alastor agrees, smile ever-present on his face. He turns heel and tilts his microphone to announce the new changes to the hotel. _"As what we agreed on, Sweetheart,"_ He easily addressed Charlie. _"This just won't do! I'll have to call in reinforcements."_ His voice humbly invites rejection but receives not a word in reply. His smile seems to sharpen, the man in wine red obviously pleased.

Not even a minute later, with the aid of black magic and whatever else taboo the One Who Smiles contained, some kind of one-eyed cyclops had begun staring into Russell's eyes. He doesn't recoil but instead, takes a couple of steps back. She follows after him, wide smile, unnatural big eye and all.

"Wowie, you're pretty small! My height, but maaaybe half an inch taller? And your _eyes!_ They're so _pretty! _Oh," Her name was _Niffty_, and she was invading his personal space. Thankfully, the one-eyed midget backed off a moment later before Russell's fingers could truly begin to twitch in annoyance.

Next was a cat (cattie?) person with a label of Husker, namely, Husk.

Russell knew from his gruff voice he wouldn't like the other potential employee but the dislike only solidified upon the cat's obvious addiction to alcohol. They didn't interact, thankfully, though a passing glance was shared between them, with Husk raising an eyebrow in Russell's direction.

On the note of oddness of these new introductions, music numbers were apparently a thing in this revolting, horrible realm. Russell had never felt so out of place when Alastor began to sing, to sway the audience of the hotel using magical tunes and cruel lyrics. A polite posture was given (to Charlie) yet the One Who Smiles shaped up words of obvious depict and twisted earnest phrases. Despite this, Charlie was the happiest out of all of them. The true goal, easily reached, apparently. And while Vaggie attempted to say something, her words were squashed by the man in red wine's quick thinking.

Russell wouldn't be fooled by such actions, and so he took the opportunity to attempt escaping the room with his natural disappearing presence.

_Attempt_ is a strong word. He stills at the incredibly tall shadow leaning over him from the mistake of standing too close to the wall. It's shadowed form looks exactly like the One Who Smiles silhouette, and Russell doesn't have time to react as his wrists are grabbed and he's in for a forceful twirl created by a dance of the past. Only lasting for a couple of moments, Russell is left winded and dizzy. The colors of the room had most definitely changed for several seconds, and he looks down at his attire.

He's wearing new clothes, along with a striped hat and scarlet bandana. A white t-shirt serving as the underclothing, striped overalls, and white dress shoes demonstrated the main components of an engineer's outfit. Gold buttons and engraved letters of fancy barely distracted Russell from the sheer amount of _disdain_ oozing from his pores. The shadow who had easily dressed him with magic performs a familiar bow of _mock_ before vanishing back to its owner in a dash of transparent black.

Russell catches an amused twist of Alastor's lips before the One Who Smiles moves on to the main event of the possible end to this terrible song of cheer and deception.

The musical number was disrupted by a blast of wood, flames, and force. The cyclops girl was smashed in by the flying door, and Russell _jolts _from the swift brush of death. He sneaks a glance with a slow glance despite his brain screaming not to. Russell is a boy who has seen death in multiple ways. He can handle a smashed cyclops who had weirdly complimented his eyes earlier. Russell was bound to feel a little ill, but to avert the truth may cause more trouble than it's worth. He turns his head, expecting a broken bloody mess.

Instead, Niffty is awake and alive, cleaning up leftover puddles of red with a mop and other supplies. She finishes her duty within ten seconds, leaving Russell for a loop as she skips away outside to see what the whole fuss is about. Niffty doesn't limp, flinch or demonstrate anything to show she had been previously smashed in a pile of solid wood. Could it be the blow didn't kill her but cause injury? Is there fast healing down in this revolting realm?

Russell doesn't follow her, staring at the freshly cleaned carpet and clear-wood polished flooring.

This place truly was...Strange.

He snaps out of his pondering when another explosion racks the sound barrier. Russell covers his ears, observing how the windows shook but didn't break. The aftermath of silence soon settles and Russell releases his ears as the others come back in with the One Who Smiles in the lead. When had the other taken leadership of the group? During the outside spectacle? What exactly happened out there? He steps off to the side to allow the entire group to pass, but Alastor somehow catches his presence. Any hope to avoid any further interaction today has gone out the window.

"_Ah, we're simply going to be having jambalaya for dinner, _care_ to join us?"_ Alastor invites, eyes half-lidded in amusement and microphone rod tilted toward himself. The very words feel like a challenge, or perhaps a dare. Russell didn't know and couldn't tell.

Russell believes the One Who Smiles would more likely poison them than generously create dinner. He prepares himself to shake his head, only for Charlie to give him a hesitant, yet welcoming smile. Russell can't help but be reminded of the Nameless Town residents who pulled him into unwilling adventures which created pleasant memories. Charlie predictably steps forward and nudges him along with them. He doesn't fight her, choosing to ignore the man's hums and soft jazz beginning to play as they walk down the halls. Vaggie seems a bit annoyed by this whole 'let's follow the One Who Smiles' and Russell silently agrees with her.

As promised, the sounds of crackling static do not exist in the music played.

Russell sticks close to Charlie's side because of the multiple dancing shadows running along beside them. He doesn't know why the others don't seem to notice it. Their performances are obvious and their presences are very easy to spot.

Russell also doesn't know if anyone can smell strong foods but he knows the smell of brewing meat and vegetables. How did Alastor find the kitchen? Or did the other use magic and those shadow puppets? Are they truly sentient enough to find it? Aside from that, the smell of cooking brought Russell back into his previous memories of watching Gardenia cook. He had never thought he'd experience a similar experience, even if it occurs with a couple of people Russell isn't particularly fond of. He could smell the beer from Husk and it leaves him both woozy and cautious. Still, the smells of food are much more empowering. It's familiar. Russell didn't expect anything familiar down here.

_["Russell, the world is full of peculiarities. Do not expect normalcy, no matter where you go."]_

For once, he'll have to agree with what his carbon copy had once said.

This realm was peculiar, yes, but like before, Russell will just have to survive it. One step at a time.


	4. Scribbled Shadows

_The walls are blue, the tiles are blue, and the roof is sickeningly blue because there's too much of the same color. It's almost worse than Russell's room, the bleach white a harsh burn to his eyes. The only relief one could get from this place is the bookshelf and the many book covers in different hues. The shelf held many secrets, like its owner. This mysterious shop gave out information at a cost. It wasn't money, but another payment Russell could absolutely deal without.  
_

_Paper pages turn, a familiar hand and fingers pause mid-way. " 'What if you encounter someone stronger than yourself?' " Emerald hues remain on the printed ink. "Are you worried, Russell?" His near-carbon copy nearly purrs, and the tone is grating to anyone's ears. "Are you worried there will be some unstoppable force you can't defeat? Someone who trounces every move you make, and every plan you create?" Blond strands move as the other boy tilts his head forward over the pages. "Perhaps someone who aims to harm those you call, dare I say it-Friends?"_

_The shop owner who looks almost exactly like him, Informant, enjoys conversation._

_Informant had a terrible habit of saying more words than Russell wants to hear. More information than he wants, oversharing what Russell already knows, and chooses to ignore. If the informer wasn't a prime requirement, Russell would've skipped out on conversing with him altogether. Unfortunately, he needed _someone _to tell him what to do next in the Happy Dream, or else nothing would move forward and Russell would be stuck in the same day in a loop._

_Sometimes, Russell asks his forever-smiling copy off-topic questions. Informant always wears a brighter smile whenever he stays a tad longer than usual, almost as if the other is entirely delighted to see him every day. As if Russell has a _choice_ in seeing his double every start of a new day._

_Russell isn't sure why that is, nor does he care. He just wants his questions answered. He's more interested in wiping that permanent grin off the doppelganger's face. And he will, someday. Just not now, as he's stuck watching Informant close the book and squint half-lidded twinkling eyes of poisonous green._

"_Well now, that's quite adorable. I didn't think you cared about the dream residents so much," Informant traces invisible shapes on the cover. "I'm touched, Russell, that you feel this way." There's far too much mock and mirth for his words to be genuine. "It's a shame only now you're just beginning to get it, but progress is progress." Informant hums. "Now, about your question…"_

_Finally._

"_I'd advise you to run, really." Informant offers, his emerald hues shimmering in thought. "Retreat, and create a plan. What is your enemy, how did they get so powerful…What their quirks are," He closes his eyes, performing his signature smile of mirth. "But Russell, why are you asking me this? Surely you know of your many tries. You've already gotten game over, just to restart to a certain point, haven't you?"  
_

_Russell nods._

"_Then why must you worry? Is there a particular reason?" His doppelganger presses but Russell does not further reply other than his nonverbal gestures._

"_Could it be...A hunch?" Informant snickers. "Oh Russell," He breathes, surprisingly human and alive despite being anything but. If the dreamer tenses, the copy does not comment. "Whoever could it be? To cause you this type of concern." His toxic greens snap open, peering into Russell and leaving him with a crawling discomfort fit for the true person he was. "...Well. Not that it matters. Here's my knowledge to you," Informant continues to smile. His ever-present expression seems as mocking as it usually is, and more._

"_You're going to encounter snags in the future. May it be a coincidence, or simply bad luck. I suppose the goal is to get around it, but however, you go about that...Is no concern to me. I'm certain you'll manage. After all," There's a weapon in his pocket. Russell can see the shape of a hidden knife, the familiar handle peeking out of the other's shorts from a shift of a leg._

"_We're the same person. And I know, you know…" He leans closer, out of character for him. Russell could feel his legs tingle. "I wouldn't let you die. There's no one else who can kill you," There's a challenge in his eyes. A spark waiting for a dare, a swipe of any weapon to indicate a battle._

_Russell darts out the door before the other finishes his sentence and doesn't return until the next day, where Informant waits with a glass of orange juice and his infamous grin. His posture is relaxed, and another book is in his lap, although there were ripped pages emptied all over the floor._

"_Care for some more daily information, Russell?"_

* * *

Alastor is being an annoyance on _purpose._

Russell isn't a fool. He knows when others go out of their way to mess with another person. Skipping school had been an easy chore but memories and past mental skills remain. Russell knows the signs, and he's certain this is a type of bullying. Unwanted contact (why does everyone like to pat his head?), smiles which make him far too uneasy, and the occasional chime of-

"_Good evening, my boy! How's your redemption coming along?"_

That.

Russell shifts, violets locking with intense rubies before averting away from the sheer absolute glee in the One Who Smile's eyes. Avoiding eye contact was the best method but sometimes Russell fails to do so in time. He regrets the decision as a short blast of static reaches his ears, and a chill runs down his horns. The other had been warned to keep his frequency to a low level, but when no one is listening, the One Who Smiles agonizes Russell with a light touch of crackling noise.

This has resulted in times where Russell grips his wrist so hard, he's left marks. Vaggie then patches him up with a questioning eye and he could never look directly at her and tell the truth. Russell isn't a coward but he's observant. He knows Vaggie would start a fight with the One Who Smiles within five minutes, regardless of the consequence. She was reckless, Russell was careful. This was the best to keep her out of harm's way.

"_Have you been adjusting? Perhaps you would like aid?" _Alastor easily circles him, and he does so very slowly. The man in red-wine clothing strolls confidently as if he _knew_ Russell had been treading on thin ice every time the two enter the same room. _"We can always ask the Belle of this charming hotel for proper guidance. I'm sure she can help you...Well, considering your origins, hmm?"_

Russell vigorously shakes his head, and a twinge of remorse hits him because Alastor looks entirely entitled by his reaction.

"Quit messing with the brat," In a rare fit of sobriety, Husk comes to his defense. Russell hadn't even realized they were in the main living room closest to the doors which had started it all. "He'll snap." Cat-ear twitches, Husk's dark eyes on their interaction but hands full of his disgusting habit. "...But I have a feeling you're aiming for that." He easily tests, and the answer comes without an effort to be hidden.

Alastor's resulting smile of sharp mirth provides Russell a couple of internal shivers. _"My friend, I will not confirm nor deny." _he twirls his microphone staff and finally stalks off with a calmer smile and chirpy mood. _"Good day, you two."_ And hopefully, that meant the One Who Smiles will not be bothering him for the next few days or so. Alastor would sometimes disappear then reappear in the hotel days to a week later. The strange man didn't stay _too long_ thankfully.

As soon as Alastor finally strolled out of the vicinity, Russell finally turned his feet. Slow as a snail, he tilted his head at the cat on two legs and proceeds to nod a silent thank you.

Husk grunts, averting his gaze. "Whatever." The conversation seemed to stop there, but a click of the tongue cancels out the silence. "Don't let him get to you. If the fucker goes too far..." A clawed paw slams onto the bar's counter and the cat releases a snarl. "Bash him upside the head! He won't like that, but he won't harm you." Husk takes a deep breath, deflating. "Believe it or not, the son-of-a-bitch actually _likes_ kids." Husk rolls his eyes and leans back, one arm back on the bar's smooth surface. He takes another swing of his beer, and Russell scurries into the halls on careful feet. He slows down with the added eyes of Alastor's shadow puppets in the darkness. It takes careful caution not to make eye contact with any of them.

He'll need to do something about this. Russell isn't sure what...But the One Who Smiles. That man was a problem. And will continue to be one unless Russell gains the upper hand. He's going to have to use advice from his carbon copy and gather information. How was he going to do that without the other finding out? With all of those eyes at every corner...

With a flash of color in the corner of squinted vision, Russell catches sight of Charlie and Vaggie chatting together, and they're accompanied by two little goats on two legs? They're smaller than he is, but such doesn't change the fact they were standing upright. Was he dreaming about this?

Russell blinks hard. Yes, they exist, and the two goats are still there. ...Oh. They spotted him.

"Bahh!" One squeals in excitement, and rushes forward with a grin. The other follows after in a hurried curious daze.

Russell barely manages to dodge them, slamming against the wall as both goat demons dive onto the spot he had been standing on two seconds ago. His sensitive hearing could detect newly created dents in the hotel floor from their rough landing. For a moment, he wonders if facing off against the shadow puppets would've been a better alternative than this entire encounter.

"Oh! Hiya there, Russell!" Charlie happily greets while Vaggie gives him an odd look. "I forgot to introduce them to you, here's Razzle and Dazzle!" She stretches her hands, and both goat twins retreat to her side with dramatic poses. The whole scene is as if they're performing a play. Both Razzle and Dazzle exclaim a greeting in their own language, and Russell comes to another realization because of the unfamiliar twinkle in their eyes.

...Were they trying to impress him?

Charlie seemed to have taken note as well, glancing between the two, and then Russell. "Ohhh," She murmurs. "I guess it's because you're just like them? Species wise, I mean." Charlie looks to Vaggie and shrugs, to which the other woman glances between all three goat residents with a thoughtful look.

Charlie gains a sparkle in her eye. Russell isn't sure he likes that look. "I just got the _best_ idea, _ever!"_ She squeals and grasps Vaggie's hand. "Russell! You gotta come to my office! Let's discuss what we're gonna do next with your reforms, okay?" She gives him a stern look, one telling of no odds of debate. "And don't skip! See you in five minutes! Come on you three," She squeals excitedly and drags Vaggie away in a gust of wind.

The duo of goat twins gives Russell a friendly wave before bounding after their master.

Russell is left to stare at where they were moments ago, now simply a couple of indents on the flooring and a lingering sense of dread. The halls were once again quiet, littered with the many eyes most did not see. Their presence is suffocating, the feeling of being alone nonexistent with their lingering forms.

...Okay.

Russell breathes in. He ignores the eyes, dismisses the quiet shuffles of the shadows as the eyes move, and refuses to make further contact with the many annoyances of this hall. He can ignore this. He's an expert at avoiding the faults in his way. This won't scare him away.

Okay.

He breathes out and steps forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little late due to finals week! Thankfully I finished with that! ...And in the making of this chapter, halfway through I suffered a really bad illness so I had to put it on pause until everything calmed. I hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by End Roll's entire concept of reforming the scum of the Earth.
> 
> For those who don't know End Roll, it's a free RPG Horror game by Segawa! Russell is the main character, and the unfamiliar people he keeps referencing to are his 'imaginary friends' created by his mind during his stay in a so-called 'Happy Dream'! The dream area he mainly stayed in was Nameless Town along with the residents, to which he will often reference. He's 14 years old (often told he's younger than he looks) and his unique traits all point to that of a sociopath. 
> 
> Also, apparently Angel Dust has a soft spot for kids, and Al has his own morals (even if it IS twisted) who knew?


End file.
